


Sight Unseeing

by Salamander



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Do Not Archive, M/M, Post-Series AU, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Top Jon, bottom Elias, post-Unknowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 14:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15050915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamander/pseuds/Salamander
Summary: After they stop the Unknowing, Jon and Elias take some time to figure out their new normal.





	Sight Unseeing

How long had it been since he’d had a proper, restful night’s sleep? Good lord, it must have been months. Definitely before the whole debacle with saving the world, blah blah. Funny that. Saved the world from the Unknowing and what thanks did they get? None, of course. It wasn’t as though people would build statues of them all and have a damned parade. National holiday, and all that. No. They just got to soldier on down there in the bloody darkness again, what a thankless job. 

And then there was that knowledge that yes, they all almost died. All of them, even Elias. And why the hell did that give Jon weird feelings in his stomach? He  _ hated _ Elias! Didn’t he? Hm. Maybe not, then. Maybe what he hated was that smug air of his, how he held himself above them all, so secure in his knowledge. 

Well that wasn’t true any more, was it? No, now they were all on the same level of not really knowing what the hell was going to happen next. No one ever mentioned  _ that _ in the stories. It was pretty obvious that something else would happen, at some point. You didn’t find out that all this supernatural nonsense wasn’t actually nonsense for it to just disappear as soon as you deal it a bit of a blow. No, Jon expected something much bigger and much fouler to crop up next time. And if he was being really, truly honest with himself? Maybe he was looking forward to it. 

In the last week, they’d worked more as a team than they’d ever done before; even Tim. And  seeing Elias there on the front lines as it were, well. It made it a little more difficult to see him as being this all-knowing power crouching above them like a grotesque spider, pulling their strings like- Jon shuddered. Okay, enough of  _ that  _ imagery, thank you very much.

He let his mind wander, instead, to thoughts of Elias after the fight. Bloodied, injured in multiple places, and barely able to stand. He’d smiled up at Jon, though, teeth bared in fierce triumph. And that? Well, that was one of the thoughts that had been plaguing Jon for the last three days. Ever since they’d been discharged from the hospital with a clean bill of health, he’d kept coming back to that fierce, toothsome smile. 

There’d been pride in there, and some inexplicable fond  _ softness  _ that Jon swore couldn’t have been directed at him. But well, directed at him or not, it was a thought that kept on bubbling to the forefront of his mind at the most inopportune of moments. Showering, drinking his morning tea, hell, even  _ ah-  _ well. You know. 

So needless to say, it was less of a surprise when Elias turned up at his door than it should have been. Jon peered through the peephole and huffed in surprise when he realised who it was. 

Elias, in his turn, held up a bottle of something alcoholic and turned that damn smile on, and Jon felt it in the pleasant dip of his stomach and the way his arm hairs stood up a little, as if in anticipation. 

He opened the door and raised an eyebrow at Elias, crossing his arms so as to not appear too eager. “Elias,” he said, by way of greeting. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Elias held up the bottle of alcohol again - golden brown with tentacles all across the label, god damn him - and smiled his razor-edged smile. “Oh you know, just a little visit. Thought I’d come and see how my favourite Archivist is doing after all our misadventures.”

Jon’s eyebrow shot up even further. “Your  _ only  _ Archivist, you mean.” He opened the door wider, though. “Come in, then. No point darkening the doorstep any more than you already are doing.” He shut the door behind them and turned back to Elias, eyeing the bottle in his hands. “Tentacles, really? Your idea of a joke?”

The bottle read ‘Kraken Black Spiced Rum’, and Elias shook it a little, making the liquid slosh around invitingly. “I thought it was quite funny, actually. Got any glasses?”

Jon stifled a laugh. “If I never see tentacles again, it’ll be too soon. And of course I have glasses, what do you think I am? Some kind of barbarian?”

“Well, you never know.” Elias followed Jon into the kitchen and set the bottle of rum down on the worktop. “So how have you been keeping?”

Jon looked over his shoulder and offered a scowl as he grabbed glasses from the top cupboard. “If this is going to turn into one of those  _ how have you been feeling let’s discuss it in great detail _ kind of visits, then I’m most firmly not interested.”

Elias took one of the glasses and opened the rum, pouring a generous helping into it. “I’d say more of a mutual commiseration over war wounds type of visit. Maybe even a bit of feeling sorry for ourselves, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh I don’t know, that sounds quite heavy Elias.” Jon slid the bottle over and poured himself an equally generous helping. “How about some mutual griping about supernatural entities? Nice and wholesome.”

“Since we’re technically both supernatural entities, does that include us as well?” Elias picked up his glass, sniffing it delicately as though it was the fanciest of wines. 

Jon tried not to focus on his fingers around the glass, and turned his attention to his own drink, which was strong and delicious, and, yes, particularly well spiced. “Perhaps we could set up some sort of exception for the two of us. Wouldn’t want this to get too personal, would we?” Jon smirked around his glass, holding Elias’ gaze like a challenge. 

Elias smirked right back, eyes intense. “And what if we  _ wanted  _ it to get personal?”

“Oh, getting round to that already, are we? Easy now, some of us don’t heal as fast as you might do.” Jon grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. He still had scars from the Prentiss debacle, let alone injuries from being, variously, burned, kidnapped, attacked by worms, stabbed, choked and then there was the whole vigorous stopping of the Unknowing. That definitely did a number on one’s body. Quite frankly, he was a sight to behold, even now, and Jon wasn’t exactly certain how comfortable he was with the idea of someone seeing him naked. Maybe they could… keep the lights off? Hmm.

“Alright, you have a point. So just drinks, then? I suppose I should go about the wooing process properly, shouldn’t I.”

Jon choked on a swallow of rum. “The  _ wooing process _ ? I can’t believe you just said that. Were you born in the 1800s or something? Good lord.” He took another drink to settle his nerves. Wooing indeed. He’d figured something was going on here, that the electricity or spark or whatever it was he was feeling was mutual, but  _ wooing _ ? 

Elias’ smile was positively Cheshire. “Perhaps I was. Or perhaps I was just making a bad joke. What do you think?”

Oh no, that was bullshit, that was. Jon’s brows beetled, and he stared directly at Elias before turning on his Archivist voice. “When were you actually born, Elias?”

“Oh, that’s nice, I do like it when you use the voice on me, Jon. And to answer your very pointed question, I was born quite some years before you were. The sixties, to be more specific.”

“The sixties? Well I must say, you look rather good for a man of your age.” Jon smirked, letting his eyes drift up and down Elias’ body. “And don’t think I didn’t notice how you wormed your way out of a more precise answer, Elias. I’ll remember that.”

“I’m sure you will. Well anyway, shall we take this to somewhere a little more comfortable?”

“The sofa, of course.” Jon threw another knowing smirk at Elias, picked up the bottle of rum and headed over. It wasn’t normally his style to drink neat spirits on the sofa next to what was ostensibly his boss, and, more precisely, the entity he served. But well, if a man didn’t deserve some downtime and alcohol after nearly dying then what did he deserve? And if he got to be closer to that infuriating, irritating man, well then all the better. At times, Jon wasn’t sure whether he’d rather punch that smug look off his face or kiss it off. Perhaps both. An, ah, interesting thought indeed.

The sofa was wide-cushioned, and there was plenty of room for the both of them. Jon didn’t bother with the pretense of turning on the television - what was the point? They both knew feigning to watch something wasn’t on the agenda for the evening. 

“I didn’t take you for a rum man,” Jon said as he folded his legs underneath him and topped up his glass. He turned to face Elias, tipping more rum into the glass for him too. “Maybe I should stop being surprised by you, hm?”

“But where’s the fun in that? I know everything that’s happening, but that’s hardly what I call a fun time. I do like a surprise now and then.”

Jon chuckled under his breath. “Until it comes to one of us, or someone trying to kill you, you mean.”

“Of course.” Elias winked at him - he sodding  _ winked _ ! - and took a deep drink of his rum, watching Jon the whole time over the rim of his glass. “What kind of all-seeing boss would I be if I let you lot get away with surprising me.”

“Well, you’d probably be a dead one, if you let Melanie get away with literal murder. And then by all accounts  _ we’d _ all be dead too, so not much fun if you ask me.”

“No, this is so much more fun than being dead.”

Jon snorted. “Yes, it’s also a lot more fun than being kidnapped, burned, maimed and generally injured.”

Elias’ eyes turned soft, and he reached over to touch one of the livid scars on Jon’s jawbone. Some of the ones on his face were faded now, since the worms, but considering they’d been one-upped by half a dozen others on various parts of his body, he could hardly complain. 

Jon flinched without thinking about it, eyes closing and cheeks reddening at the thought of someone seeing all of his broken body like that. Of Elias especially, laying him to bare in the stark lighting of his living room, of the way his lip might curl upwards in disgust, of how his eyes would flick from scar to burn, wound to bruise, and how he would see the truth of him there writ plain. 

But none of that happened. Elias’ fingers were gentle and inquiring, his touch so light that it made Jon shiver beneath it. “If you carry on like that,” he murmured, swallowing hard, “then you’ll be skipping the wooing and going straight to the bedroom.”

He opened his eyes to see Elias gazing at him, eyes intense, with a little half-smile on his face. “What?”

“I was just thinking how much of a picture you are, my Archivist.”

“Your Archivist, is it? And what does that make you? My lord?” Jon’s eyes flickered over Elias’ face, watching for a reaction as he turned on his Archivist voice for those last words. He smiled, triumphant, when Elias swallowed in turn.

“Yes, perhaps it does. Or perhaps it just makes me a very lucky man indeed.” 

“Oh, that was smooth. Very nice.” Jon’s lips curled in a smile, and he reached out and pressed one finger against Elias’ lips. “Too smooth for your own good, I think. Are you going to be quiet for me?” 

Elias swallowed again, then nodded. Jon wasn’t sure if he was doing so because he was compelled to, or if he was merely playing along, but the heady rush of power soared straight to his groin and he felt himself harden in response.  _ Shit _ . So that was a thing, was it? Never had himself pegged as someone who’d get off on having power over someone, but maybe this? Maybe this was different, somehow. Elias was his boss, and his, lord, his what? The Avatar of the Beholding for sure, and that  _ Jon  _ could have power over  _ him  _ was… well. It was intoxicating. 

Jon slid his finger across Elias’ bottom lip and parted them gently, slipping inside his mouth. His tongue was hot and wet against his fingertip, and Jon shivered. Elias just looked at him, one eyebrow quirked as if in question; as if he was watching Jon to see what exactly he would do. 

Always watching, god damn it! Even now… even now, when they were about to- well. Perhaps Jon could do something about  _ that _ . “You’re wearing a tie,” he pointed out, pulling his finger from Elias’ mouth and touching it to his own lips. “Unfasten it.” 

Elias’ eyebrow quirked even more, but he obeyed; first he set down his glass on the low coffee table, then brought up both hands to slowly, oh so slowly, unfasten his tie, not taking his eyes from Jon’s the whole time. 

Jon narrowed his eyes, then took the tie from Elias, perhaps a little harsher than he meant to. With brief, slightly annoyed motions, he leaned over and wrapped it around both of Elias’ eyes, tying it off behind his head secure enough that it wouldn’t slip down. 

Suddenly, with the pressure of Elias’ watchful gaze off him, Jon felt like he could breathe again. How could one man be so  _ intense _ ? And even though his eyes were covered Jon knew that Elias would still be able to  _ see _ him, but somehow that thought didn’t give him as much pause. It wasn’t like he could see the Beholding hovering over them, unblinking. 

“Are you satisfied now, Jon?” Elias broke the silence, and Jon nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“Good lord, Elias! You don’t even need me to say the words, do you? It doesn’t do anything to you. I should have known!” 

Elias smiled, the effect somewhat hindered by the hideous paisley tie across his eyes. “No, I don’t. As I told you before, I  _ choose  _ to obey you, Jon, and that means a lot to me. But I do so enjoy this little game of ours, so please.” He raised a hand and cupped Jon’s cheek, brushing it with the pad of his thumb. “Please continue telling me just how you’d like me.”

Now that? That was unfair. Downright unfair, and Jon felt a blush spread across his cheeks even as he realised that Elias couldn’t really see him. Something settled in his stomach, though, and he offered a hesitant smile which he was sure would be relayed directly to Elias by his benefactor. 

“Very well then,” Jon replied, voice low. “Turn around, Elias. Onto your knees for me.”

Elias obeyed, and Jon bit his bottom lip at the sight of him. He was knelt on Jon’s sofa, back to him, the line of his shoulders sloping and beautiful as the crisp, pale purple shirt he wore. It was slightly rumpled now, Jon noticed, and, feeling daring, he reached out and tugged at it until it came untucked. Elias shifted into his touch, and that was all the encouragement he needed. 

Jon’s fingers trailed across Elias’ lower back, brushing his shirt out of the way. An image of himself stood behind Elias, trousers unfastened and their hips joined flashed into Jon’s head, and he startled, fingers curling back into his palm as he hesitated, knuckles brushing the swell of Elias’ arse. A wave of  _ desire _ not his own washed over him, and he nearly staggered with it. Possessiveness, an ironclad certainty that Jon was  _ his _ and no-one else’s, and that he would allow Jon to do anything to him, for him, his Archivist, and Jon gasped, his free hand flying up to cover his mouth.

His cheeks burned, and he could feel the pleased heat radiating from Elias without even needing to see him; a cat with a cornered mouse, pausing for a second to wash its whiskers in the smug knowledge that its prey wasn’t going anywhere. 

“I may be your prey,” he murmured, “but I’m the one who has you cornered right now, Elias.” Jon reached out and took hold of the trailing ends of Elias’ tie, wrapping them around his fingers once and tugging, a little harder, perhaps, than he should have done. “You’ve made me into your little Archivist, but you don’t  _ own _ me.” His words dripped more venom than he expected, and he allowed the feelings to seep into him a little deeper, to pull him a little further into whatever depravity he was becoming. “Maybe you shouldn’t have pushed me quite so far. Or was that your intention all along? For me to become the same as you? Well I won’t, you hear me? I will not be another you.” He dropped the tie with disgust, giving Elias’ head a push, albeit a gentler one than before. 

He felt his shoulders lose their tension, and a softer, fluidity come over him. So maybe he was a monster; maybe he was something that he’d previously been afraid of. So was Elias, and perhaps - after they’d stopped the Unknowing and entwined themselves even tighter - perhaps they were the same in the end. Jon didn’t know. But he did know that seeing Elias there on his knees, of his own accord or not, gave him that dark tangle of desire in the depths of him, and that he could not deny. 

And so he tried again: one hand at Elias’ arse, the other caressing the nape of his neck and the soft, curling hairs there. Elias didn’t say a word, but Jon could feel his approval in waves, lapping at him like that cat again, and he shivered, this time with pleasure. If this was what it was going to be like to touch him like this, so simple a thing, then what would actual sex be like?

A sensation of a smile, at that, and gentle encouragement, and Jon grunted, a smile curling at his own lips as he slid his hand down the waistband of Elias’ trousers, moving it around to curl at his hip, fingers in the lithe dip of him. Any nervousness fell away, then, as Jon felt the prickle of Elias’ skin at his touch. He didn’t care how little experience Jon had at this. He would  _ show _ him, guide him in this as he had guided him so far, and nothing Jon could do would ever be a disappointment, or an embarrassment, or any of those things that he feared on such a visceral level. 

Jon’s fingers felt just right there, fitting perfectly against the curve of hip bone, but he longed for more. He opened his mouth to ask if he could touch, if he could kiss, if he could worship Elias’ body with his tongue, and the answer flowed into him:  _ yes, a thousand times yes, I am yours and you are mine, I give myself to you _ , and Jon sighed, pressed his hand further around Elias until he was stroking the hard length of him, palming it against the softness of his underwear, gasping at the girth of it, the weighty press of it against his hand. 

He bent over Elias, nosing at his lower back, mouthing a kiss against the dip of his arse, scenting the salt smell of him, his senses filled with Elias, his thoughts, as he opened himself to it. 

There were suddenly too many clothes between them, and Jon sat back to tug at Elias’ shirt at the same time that Elias unfastened his trousers and shoved them down. “I need you,” Jon said, scrabbling to pull Elias’ shirt all the way off. The tie came with it, and he found that he didn’t care, as Elias turned to him and those grey eyes met his own, and oh, what a pool that would be to drown in. 

“Your turn,” Elias breathed, eyes flicking down to Jon’s trousers and then back up again to his lips. 

Jon shook his head. “No,” he said, simply, before pushing Elias back down onto his knees, a firm hand at the back of his head. “No.” He bent to him once more, going to his own knees behind Elias, parting his thighs with reverent hands and mouthing a kiss, a bite, a lick until he breached Elias with his tongue. Jon felt it like a fizz of champagne bubbling down his spine, and he arched his back, mirrored with Elias’, gasping into him, muffled. 

He broke away for a breath, eyes sliding closed as he took in all the sensory feedback he was receiving from Elias. A very handy ability, that. Jon wondered why he’d ever feel the need to speak at all, when he could simply deposit his thoughts and feelings directly into someone’s brain. Although that could get a little morally dubious at times, he supposed. Not that that was anything  _ Elias _ had ever cared about. An impatient thought-nudge brought him out of his reverie, and Jon turned his attentions back to the task at hand.

“Did-” he began, unsure of how to even ask. “Did, uh. Did you bring lubrication? I’m afraid that’s not something I keep around.” 

Elias chuckled deep in his chest and looked pointedly at his trousers. Sure enough, Jon could see the outline of a tube or bottle, and when he got his hands in there, he produced a small bottle of unflavoured lube. He tilted his head at the bottle, resisted the urge to read the instructions, and flipped back the cap. He was pleased it wasn’t one of those flavoured types. Coating someone in strawberry goo wasn’t his idea of a good time; this, though? This was just clear, no scent, and slightly chilly on his fingers. 

“Okay, here goes I suppose.” Another chuckle, and Jon swatted Elias on his arse with slick fingers. “Silence, you.” With a moment of mischief, he slicked his fingers around Elias’ entrance, then pushed one straight inside without preamble. By the way Elias moaned, a little breathy, he could only assume it was a surprise, but a pleasant one if his gasp was anything to go by. “A little help here, Elias?” 

“Mm,” Elias replied, breaking his silence. “Crook your finger a little, like you’re beckoning to someo-  _ ah _ yes, just so.”  It was the opposite direction to how he would usually crook a finger considering their angles, but Jon managed to find it and indeed, there was something inside Elias that he could feel, and it was evidently the right spot as Elias shivered bodily the second Jon touched him there. 

“Ah, interesting.” Jon pushed against it, noting the way Elias’ moans changed, and the way his body felt beneath him and around his finger. He tried another one, as Elias seemed quite relaxed, and found that it slid right in and oh, it was so hot and tight that Jon had to swallow hard to get a hold of himself. 

He spread his free hand across Elias’ thigh, feeling the way it trembled as he moved his fingers inside him, pressing and rubbing at the spot which he presumed was Elias’ prostate. And good lord, did he always sound so scientific at moments like this? Not that he’d had many moments like this in the past, and especially not with another man, but he really did need to learn how to turn off his damned brain.

Elias turned to him, something unknown in those sea-grey eyes, and he smiled slowly. “I know how to turn off that brain of yours,” he murmured. “Let me show you?”

The way he phrased it as a question sent a pleasant shiver down Jon’s spine, and he swallowed again. “Yes, alright.” He pulled his slick fingers from Elias’ arse and sat back on his haunches, waiting, his own erection straining at his trousers more evidently now. 

Elias turned smoothly and reached out for Jon’s hand, pulling him up at the same time as he stood, and pressing their bodies together for a second. “The bedroom, I believe?” They weren’t so different in height, and Jon felt Elias’ own erection brush his own, still clothed, and grunted. 

“Hm? Oh, yes. The bedroom.” Jon shook his head clear, and took Elias by the wrist. He bent and retrieved the hideous tie, then led Elias into his bedroom. It was a plain room, a double bed central with one set of drawers on the left. There were some neat stacks of books on the drawers, as well as at the simple desk in one corner, and a lamp which Jon turned on as he took Elias to his bed. 

Jon sat down, unsure of quite how Elias wanted to continue, then gasped as Elias went to his knees in front of him in one graceful motion. “Elias?”

“Hush. Allow me?”

Jon nodded his assent, mouth dry, and Elias began to remove his belt, then trousers, and then, finally, his underwear. Jon’s erection hung there between them, swollen and heavy, then Elias was taking it into his mouth, between his lips, and Jon could barely breathe for it: hot wetness surrounding him, eager tongue rubbing the underside, that perfect spot where all the nerves ended. Jon fisted one hand in the quilt, the other finding the back of Elias’ head and gripping it tight. Perhaps tighter than he’d meant to, but he found himself pulled under by lust and power, unable to resist the urge to push his dick deeper into Elias’ mouth, to hit the back of his throat and hold it there for a few moments before easing off again.

“Okay, enough of that,” Jon said, breathing heavy. He pulled Elias off his dick and grabbed the tie once more, wrapping it around Elias’ eyes and tying it off tighter this time. “Sit down,” he said, forceful, Archivist voice in full effect, “here, on me.”

There was a little waver from Elias, then he obeyed without a word, a satisfied smile curling on his lips.

Jon took him by the chin, pulling him in closer so he could whisper into his ear. “You like this, don’t you? All powerful, all-seeing Avatar, doing the bidding of your Archivist. My, I could tell you to do anything and you’d lap it up. Wouldn’t you?” He squeezed Elias’ chin and Elias nodded, tongue sliding out to lick his bottom lip. 

It was a little awkward with Jon sat on the edge of his bed, but he stabilised himself with one hand as he ran the other down Elias’ arse. He was still slick, and two fingers slid inside him with such ease that it made Jon gasp. “Come here,” he said, manoeuvring Elias until he was positioned just above his own dick. 

With a smooth movement, Elias took hold of Jon’s dick and sat down on it, guiding him inside, and  _ oh-  _ oh. That was better than fingers, better than his own hand, by a mile. “Good lord,” Jon hissed, burying his head into Elias’ collarbone. He took a few minutes to just breathe, to centre himself, and to try get a hold on the wash of feedback he was getting from Elias too. 

Not a word came out of Elias’ mouth, but Jon could  _ feel  _ him inside his head -  _ yes, that’s it, you feel so good inside me my Archivist, show me what you want from me, take all of me, I am yours  _ \- and it was almost too much. Jon moved his hips and he sunk deeper into Elias with a gasp. He was so damned tight and hot, surrounding him with his flesh and his mind. 

Jon held Elias in place with one hand cupping his arse as he began to roll his hips, getting into a rhythm. It was easy to buck upwards, to drive himself further inside with every thrust, but it wasn’t quite enough, for either of them it seemed, if Elias’ frustrated noises were anything to go by. 

“You irritating, demanding man,” Jon panted. He attempted to lift Elias up, and failed somewhat spectacularly, leaving them both collapsed on the bed and his dick halfway out of Elias’ arse. But at least Elias was beneath him, which gave Jon the perfect angle to pull up one glorious thigh across his own, to press Elias down into the bed and push back inside him at an angle he hadn’t thought possible, until he couldn’t go any further. 

He pressed his head against Elias’, eyes closing as he felt the bond between them deepen into something more, Elias encircling him with his arms and his very soul, and he rocked with it, feeling safe and wanted and loved and all those glorious feelings he hadn’t realised he’d been missing for so long.

Jon gasped a little, feeling tears begin to collect in the corners of his eyes. Elias murmured nonsense into his ear, pressing kisses to his neck and shoulders and his face and eyes, kissing away those tears until Jon came back to himself, then began to move once more. He’d hardly realised that he’d stopped until Elias’ movements brought him round, and then he found that he could barely stop himself from moving.

Elias wrapped his legs around Jon, arching his back off the bed and digging his heels into the small of Jon’s back. Jon grunted, and obligingly rocked deeper into Elias until he was fucking him into the bed. 

Their movements lost any sense of rhythm as Elias’ thoughts tangled in Jon’s once more, driving him to fuck into him harder and faster, one hand scrabbling between them to pump Elias’ dick desperately until, final and exhausted, he felt the wave of Elias’ orgasm crash into him, tipping Jon over the edge too.

He collapsed on top of Elias, noticing with a tired laugh that the tie was still around his eyes. “You know,” Jon murmured, “I like it like this. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you without a witty comeback.”

“Then I’ll be sure to think one up for you.” Elias’ smile was wide and satiated, “although if you don’t get off me soon, we’ll be stuck together and that could be enough of a comeback for both of us.”

Jon groaned. “Good lord Elias, don’t make me use the voice on you, I’m too tired for that nonsense.” He buried his face in Elias’ shoulder again, at that hollow that seemed made perfectly for him, and sighed. “I never knew that could feel so good.”

“Hmm, well, don’t say that being an Avatar doesn’t have its benefits.” Elias ran his fingers through Jon’s hair, messing with the curls idly. “I am pleasantly surprised with how your powers are coming along, by the way.” 

And Jon could tell it too, just from that damn smugness in Elias’ voice. “Not powerful enough though, considering you could just ignore my command like that.” He tried not to let his annoyance show through, but failed somewhat spectacularly. 

Elias chuckled, and Jon felt it through his chest. “Ah, my Archivist. You’re just as easy to tease as you ever were, even after everything.”

With a surprised noise, Jon moved enough that he could rest his chin on Elias’ chest, basically looking up his nostrils. “What do you mean?” He added a touch of voice, just enough to give it that little burr he now knew Elias liked so much.

“Oh Jon, I’ve been playing this game so much longer than you. There’s always a loophole, darling, you should know that by now.”

Jon narrowed his eyes and swatted Elias on the flat of his stomach, turning his voice on fully this time. “Enough of that. Tell me what you mean.” 

He felt Elias shiver and it didn’t go unnoticed that his dick twitched too. Jon filed that little fact away for later use. “You didn’t tell me to be silent for the whole time,” he replied, that damned smile still curling at his lips. “And not only that, but you gave me other commands, then, which I obeyed. I believe there may be something to research with regards to linking commands together, and I’ll be honest, I didn-” 

Jon cut him off with a hard kiss, biting down on Elias’ bottom lip before plunging deep inside with his tongue. He closed his eyes, giving himself over to the Beholding’s sight for a moment and just breathing with the kiss, tamping down a little of the irritation and letting his curiosity bloom. 

“So,” he said, finally, breaking away from Elias, “what you’re telling me is that there could be thousands of ways I could use my voice. That I’ve basically barely begun to plumb the depths of what I could do.”

“Mm, that’s about the gist of it.” Elias, still blindfolded, smiled that absolutely infuriating smile of his, and Jon felt his dick twitch with interest again, even sandwiched between their hips as it was.

“Good lord, it really does get you off, doesn’t it.” Jon reached up and slid the tie off Elias’ eyes, pushing his hair back with it until it pooled on the pillow behind him. “I’m going to enjoy this.” He slid a hand between them and palmed Elias’ come-smeared dick, grimacing at the state of it. “Alright, maybe not now. Shower first, you disgusting old man.”

“You have  _ no idea _ .”

“Maybe I don’t just this second, but I certainly will just as soon as I start experimenting with this voice.” Jon smiled wickedly, looking up at Elias under his lashes. “I wonder just what else I could compel you to do for me.”

“I can’t wait to find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Someone told me that there wasn't any top!Jon in this fandom yet. Well let me tell you my friends, I AM HERE TO FIX THIS SHIT!!


End file.
